


The Carbon Year

by 221B_Marauder



Series: Commanding Riposte [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-13 04:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221B_Marauder/pseuds/221B_Marauder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock helps Scotland Yard solve crimes. Everyone knows he is bonded but can't picture who would bond with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [A Sherlock BBC kink meme fill](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/20063.html?thread=120610399#t120610399)
> 
> I have to give a huge thanks to [lutz](http://users.livejournal.com/_lutz_/) for the generous help given to me in editing this. Any mistakes still found are entirely my fault.
> 
> Translation into 中文 available at 221D:[The Carbon Year/荏苒年华](http://221dnet.211.30i.cn/bbs/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=3134) by [skyfall6567](http://221dnet.211.30i.cn/bbs/home.php?mod=space&uid=10217&do=thread&view=me&from=space)

#####  _November 2010_

* * *

“Look, Sherlock. It’s ridiculous for us to continue living in two separate places in London. I’m tired of Mycroft, okay. I feel like we’re going to end up owing him for letting me stay there.” 

Sherlock turns to look at him, actually look at him. 

“What’s brought this on so suddenly?” 

John groans before stepping closer into Sherlock’s flat. “It’s not sudden, and I’m tired of being your dirty secret.” 

The words have the desired effect. Sherlock stands suddenly and glares down at him, “You are not my dirty secret. We agreed, when we bonded, that we’d have to do it this way. It’s safer for you.”

“That was ages ago!” John snaps. “I’m no longer seventeen, Sherlock! I can take care of myself, hell, I help take care of others if you haven’t noticed.” John raises his voice, “And maybe I’m tired of being safe with Mycroft! I want to be near you, help you if I can.” 

They fall silent. John because he’s mortified he’s said so much about the subject when he only wanted to broach it. Sherlock because he is considering John’s words and what would happen if listened to. 

“Do you feel neglected?” An odd look crosses Sherlock’s face before he steps into John’s space, who is still near the doorway, before pulling him closer into the room and slamming the bolt down on his door.

“Don’t be an idiot, of course I’m not.” John retaliates sharply despite melting a little into Sherlock’s hold. “I just think it’s time we start living together again. I’m capable of taking care of myself in case you somehow deleted that I’ve been trained.” He emphasizes the last word as Sherlock opens his mouth to speak. “But I find it hard to imagine anyone would care much that we’re bonded if they haven’t looked into it already.” 

“It’s not wise to bare all your cards.” Sherlock murmurs, still watching him closely.

“Hang the cards! You know we can do this, Sherlock. We planned for this, only I want to go through with it sooner rather than later. What if something happens to you and I have to hear it from Anthea – who is your brother’s PA, not even a mate – again, I swear I will kill you myself.” 

Carefully watching Sherlock, he catches a smirk forming. “Well this won’t work then.” 

Dread makes its way through him at the surprise words as he attempts to pull out of Sherlock’s hold. He has an angry retort ready to fling at Sherlock before he’s being dragged deeper into the room.

“Don’t misunderstand me John. I mean that this flat won’t do. We should be looking for a more permanent place if we’re to move back in together.” 

The fight goes out of John as soon as those words are said. 

“At least a two or three bed roomed place.” Sherlock continues and John stares, a little shocked, up at his mate.

“Are you planning on us sleeping in separate rooms?” John frowns.

“Don’t think so slowly. I hardly sleep, but if we’re living together you better believe we’re sharing a room.”

“A room for your experiments then?” 

“Perhaps.” Sherlock smiles brightly down at John before swooping down for a kiss. “How long can you stay?” 

John blinks the haze of the kiss away before answering. “My shift starts in three.” He looks down at his watch for confirmation. 

“Excellent. Let’s order in.” 

John grins. “I want Thai.” 

Sherlock groans like the immature child he can be before pushing John into the kitchen where they keep the menus. 

John sighs, “Of course you would make me call.” He mutters as he reclines against Sherlock’s chest while he dials and places their order. Sherlock has his arms wrapped firmly around John, chin on John’s shoulder as he scents John lightly and listens to the conversation.

Over an hour later finds Sherlock draped over John, the sheets kicked off the bed and Sherlock softly mouthing at the six year old bond bite he’d placed on John himself while John stirs lazily beneath him. 

“Want me to get off?” Sherlock purrs into John’s spine. 

John shudders, before groaning no. He likes the weight of Sherlock on top of him. “But I do have to get cleaned up soon.” 

“Skip.” Sherlock replies.

“I can’t skip today. Sorry.” John sighs, beginning to shift to be able to turn onto his back. Sherlock crouches above John, not touching any part of him except for where a curl at his forehead decides to touch John’s hair that is sticking out in all directions. 

“How do you expect to help me if you have to work.”

John rolls his eyes. “I’m used to going without much sleep, just finished med school, remember.” 

“Of course I remember.” Sherlock sniffs. “Hard to forget when your bed is commandeered for days by a new young doctor and you’re too busy to take cases.”

“Don’t pretend like you were bored.” John smiles the smile of the _‘we have a secret joke’_ that Sherlock can’t help but return.

“Of you? Never.” Sherlock confirms as he leans down to kiss John before he pushes himself up. They do need to get ready after all. And John, well, he needs to scrub the scent of Alpha, Omega lubrication, and sex off before he heads into work. “I miss you smelling of me.” Sherlock suddenly admits. 

John stands beside the bed, looking down at Sherlock. “I always smell of you. We’re bonded.” 

“That’s not what I meant. I miss the scent being fresh every day and anyone being able to tell from yards away that you’ve been with me.” 

John is speechless. Feels the same on the matter and kneels at the edge of the bed between Sherlock’s thighs holding onto his waist. “I’m trying,” John replies softly, “I want it too.”

“Living together again is a genius idea. Why didn’t I think of it?” Sherlock admonishes himself, eyes shut tightly. 

John moves his hands to rest up on each side of Sherlock’s neck and spreading his fingers in a soothing way. “Because you’re an idiot.” 

A familiar long fingered hand comes up to rest on his stomach, lightly stroking him in return. Causing the muscles to ripple before light pressure is added to finger tips, and Sherlock is pushing him slowly away, reminding him that he needs to go shower before he leaves.

In the shower he scrubs the smell off of his skin and feels the lubrication and ejaculate wash away as it drips out of him and not for the first time wishes it would stay inside and become something extraordinary. 

He needs to talk with Sherlock. One thing at a time, they’ll get to it.  


#####  _September 2004_

* * *

Sherlock is still taller than him; his forehead barely reaches Sherlock’s lips, but if anything, that’s a good thing. It makes him feel more secure.

“Are you sure?” Sherlock asks with a strained tone to his voice.

John shudders violently, arms lifting to grip onto Sherlock’s arms, anything to hold him up. How he can still understand and create sentences is beyond him. A low moan escapes from him before he’s breathing out, “Yes. Of course I’m sure, we planned this. Besides, we already did the bonding ceremony.” Another shudder tears through him. “Shouldn’t you want to complete it?” 

"Shouldn't you want to finish your A-levels before you bond?" Sherlock inquires roughly, urged by John's words, and not really caring about the answer.

"I can finish just fine after this." John insists, hands grasping a little more desperately at Sherlock.

“I won’t let you change your mind. I won’t allow you to regret it.” Sherlock warns.

He laughs weakly, leaning more on Sherlock for support now than ever before. “Counting on it detective.” 

John feels himself be pushed back gently, before sure familiar hands are stripping him of his clothes. His breath hitches, heat rushing through his body as Sherlock’s fingers touch his bare skin. It hurts when he moves his fingers away and he finds himself pressing closer with every accidental brush.

“Your heat is coming on fast; it’ll be uncomfortable until you’re well into it.” Sherlock talks him through stripping off his jeans, in control of himself again. The cool air against his skin is a blessing. 

“It’s not our first heat.” John replies thickly, kicking out of his jeans and pants with Sherlock steadying him as he nearly tips over. 

“Yes, but it’s your first without a symptom suppressant.” He is reminded. 

Oh, that’s right. To be able to bond as an Omega he has to be in heat and on no suppressants. If an Omega wants to be on birth control, they need to be specific ones to not affect the heat. 

“It’s worth it.” John gives in and tips into Sherlock, resting his nose against Sherlock’s collar bone, trying to burrow his nose underneath the shirt where the scent is coming out the strongest. 

“You’re making it worse by scenting me.” John's warned. 

“Like ripping a plaster.” John mumbles, pulling Sherlock closer, feeling Sherlock laugh. He smiles to himself in reply before he’s resting against the softest and smoothest sheets he’s ever lain in again. “Feels good.” he mutters, rubbing the side of his face against the sheets. 

Sherlock is silent so John turns on his back to make sure he’s not been abandoned when he’s at his most vulnerable. Instead he finds Sherlock at the edge of the bed watching him. He shudders into a ball on his side, watching Sherlock. Waiting for his heat to get here, he’s feeling impatient, He wants Sherlock now. But Sherlock won’t touch him until he’s ready. He groans in dissatisfaction. 

Waking up from his nap, he is surprised to feel hot smooth skin pressed against his back, along with something warm and wet licking up his neck and he can’t help but bare it by rolling his head as he moans. He no longer feels ill, instead he feels hot and something in him is aching and he finds himself turning onto knees and elbows, his eyes pleading at Sherlock. _Now. It needs to happen now. Do it now._

Sherlock clambers behind him just as he finally makes sense of what is dripping out of him, lubrication; he’s in full heat now. 

Long fingers are finally touching him, breaching. He can’t control his vocal cords, much less his breathing, but he needs more, so much more. Finally, Sherlock is inside him a long minute later and John is choking on air at the sensation of being filled. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, but in the back of his mind he remembers it is the first time he is releasing hormones during a heat for a bond. 

Sherlock is breathing heavily against his shoulders and head, dragging in deep pulls of air; John rolls his shoulders to feel the breath on more of his skin. Doing so his hips shift as well and suddenly Sherlock is pulling him into a tight hold, moving with purpose, and he feels something new and warm blooming from within. 

Wanting to feel more, he desperately pushes back and shifts his hips. He hears Sherlock growl and there’s a sharp drag of teeth against his skin going down the nape of his neck and he shudders because instinctively he knows the promise and what comes next, and if he could bare himself further he would. So he hangs his head in wait as he continues to remember to breathe when something more interesting is happening to his body. 

Just as he’s knotted, that particular sensation is overshadowed by teeth plunging deeply into his flesh, he receives their bond bite that propels him into mindless orgasm in synch with Sherlock. He won’t realize he’s crying out the whole time until after his heat when it hurts to speak and it’s too much work to move away from his Alpha. 

Not that Sherlock would let his mate out of his sights for a few days first.


	2. Chapter 2

#####  _November 2010_

* * *

“What kind of Omega wouldn’t want to get away from an Alpha like that?” Sally scoffs as the large Alpha forced into handcuffs is shoved unceremoniously into the back of a police car. 

“Stupid ones, surely.” Sherlock replies offhandedly, having been near the conversation and having heard it.

“Oh, you mean like yours.” Sally smirks up at Sherlock while Anderson snorts stupidly upon processing the words. 

“My mate is not stupid.” He drops coldly, unable to leave the comment, before turning to talk to Lestrade.

“Clearly they are! They’re still with a psychopath!” She spits, a nasty look appearing on her face, as if Sherlock and his mate were one of the most disgusting things she had ever witnessed. 

“Just because I’m not willing to endanger my mate with contact to your consistent stupidity does not make me a psychopath.” Sherlock cuts her off smartly before she really starts. 

Sally flushes an angry puce. “It sounded sweet, before anyone ever realized what a freak you were. In which case I'll have to disagree, only someone stupid would stay with you.” 

Sherlock turns away from her, the Alpha in him wanting to punish her for insulting his mate. With his phone in hand, he forces himself to remember that he has to call an old client after he finishes with Lestrade and his idiotic team. He cannot be sidetracked by them, he has important things that cannot be held off because of an incompetent duo. 

“They’re only trying to get you to retaliate.” 

Sherlock glances in the direction of the comment, scowling at Lestrade for stating the obvious. “Because I hadn’t noticed.” 

Lestrade ignores his acidic tone with infuriating expertise. “I think it’s great that you keep your mate from all of this. It’s really nothing they should have to deal with.” Lestrade looks around at the bustling scene. Sherlock can’t help but silently disagree; John would probably thrive in this just as he. "Though the support is appreciated. I expect your mate has no issues with your consulting?" Lestrade dares ask, he hasn't really tried in years. 

Evading unwanted questions about John, he aims to distract. “There’s one last thing. Check beneath the stairs, under the floorboards.” He gives before turning away, pressing the call button on his phone and finally walking in the direction of the street. 

The phone rings a long while before it is answered. “Hello. Mrs. Hudson?” 

Her familiar voice greets him energetically. “Yes. This is Sherlock Holmes.” 

“I noticed you are letting out rooms at Baker Street…” A pause. “That’s right, I’d love to look at the rooms. Tomorrow at 5 in the evening?” 

She is quick in agreeing on his set time. “Excellent. Have a good evening Mrs. Hudson.”

 

“I have two rooms upstairs that need to be let out together as a flat, I don’t know if you’d need a spare room, but it’s there all the same.” 

“Yes, this works. John will approve of it.” Sherlock mutters out loud to himself as he slowly explores the flat and its features. 

“John?” A kind voice intrudes into his thinking.

Sherlock turns to look at her. “My mate. It's why I'm looking for a new flat, we're moving back in together.” He answers easily, surprising himself with how open he is with the information and how not irritated he is at her getting him off track. 

“Oh, you’ve gotten back together - It's been years since I've seen you so I don't remember . How wonderful! I love it when bonds as young as yours stay together despite all the troubles.” 

Sherlock frowns. What about getting back together? They were never apart, just a little distance between them on most days while John went to school and Sherlock to work but they were always in communication, seeing each other whenever they wanted while only being a few miles apart. 

“I do remember you saying your mate was an Omega a long time ago, oh it’ll be wonderful to have a child in the building! Oh, children would be wonderful!” The excitement was honest if not confusing. 

A child? 

“Yes, thank you. We’ll take it. I’ll come back soon to finalize our agreement, I need to let John know I’ve found a place.” He extracts himself from the situation as quickly as he can, he needs to think.

 

John hasn’t been back to the flat since yesterday afternoon. He's starting to feel that itch where he needs to see John, his defenses having come down with the knowledge that they were soon moving in together, so Sherlock waits on the sofa because John is coming back soon.

He hears the door rattle a little as a key is gleefully pushed in to unlock the door. John rushes in, collar unbuttoned and skewed with it sticking out of his jumper as he drops his case by the door before kicking the door shut. Sherlock sits up a little straighter when he gets his eyeful of John.

“I got your message.” John smiles obviously pleased and getting straight to the point. “You said in a good spot. When can we see it?” 

Sherlock remains silent, running images and conversations and actions through his memory before coming to a conclusion. He ignores the talk about physical places and flats for now.

“Do you still not want children?” He blurts out.

John’s sudden stillness is confirmation enough to his recent suspicions. 

“I – no. I’ve changed my mind… years ago, Sherlock.” 

“You never said.” Sherlock accuses. He should have known, he should have been able to tell!

“I couldn’t.” John replies simply.

“Why not?” 

“Because we weren’t ready. I was in school, your history of drugs could have meant bad news if things didn't work out, and then you were doing something important and I didn’t want to get in between that. I couldn't take that away from you and I didn’t want to. We were good; there was no point in complicating things.” John responds in a reasonable tone, walking slowly to him. His head is tilted in confusion, but he keeps up. 

“Would you have them with me now? Despite all of what you’ve just said?” He needs to know, this is now essential. 

“I would.” The confident reply nearly catches him by complete surprise.

He pushes, because that is what he does. “What about your career?”

John laughs fondly while taking the last few steps to reach him, his hand instantly burrowing in his hair and fingers running along his scalp and through his curls. “You act like I can’t take leave to have our child.” 

In a surge of nearly blinding affection Sherlock pulls John to him, forcing him to sit beside him on the couch. “The flat I found us is two bedrooms, one for us and one for the baby.” 

“Wait, Sherlock. Stop.” John holds out a hand, staring wide eyed at him. “The baby? Are you telling me you want to have kids?” He enjoys watching John's facial expressions as they come when John is generous enough to let him see.

“It was implied, yes.” Sherlock replies, watching a wide smile spreads across John’s face. Sherlock leans in closer, better to see it. “So you are pleased," he murmurs in quiet triumph. 

#####  _May 2002_

* * *

“Don’t just stand there!” He snarls indignantly, pushing the man out of his way as he rushes to his fathers aid. 

His dad is slumped against the stuffed chair, snoring embarrassingly loud. 

John groans unhappily, this was just what he needed, his dad to get drunk during his spot presentation and acceptance dinner. 

“He’s only drunk.” The man tries to reassure him, quietly stepping in from behind him. 

“Thanks, Mr. Obvious, like I hadn’t worked it out myself. If you can’t help, piss off. We don’t need an audience.” He gets snippy when he feels lost and humiliated. 

“If you weren’t sending off distress signals I’d leave you alone.” The man snaps in return, shouldering him out of the way. "Where is his room, I can help you take him there. We don't need every unbonded Alpha in the vicinity desperate to give you aid.” 

John falls stoically silent, blushing hard at his words. Distress Signals? Unbonded Alphas? Desperate? 

“Well go on then, where is his room?” The man sounds horribly inconvenienced while continuing to look down at him and John can’t breathe when he’s being looked at like that with those eyes. “Oh for gods sake, don’t go into a fugue now!” 

“I’m not!” John snaps defensively. “Look, just hand him over. I don’t need your help.” He makes a bid to calm down. 

“You’re lying. Why?” The attempt is ruined by the caustic tone of the man.

“Does it matter? Just give him to me!” The man drops his dad, with a dark defiant glint to his eyes, into his arms and he struggles to keep them upright. His father is significantly larger than him. “Great. Perfect. Thanks.” John pants as he tries to wrestle his dad in a position where he could maybe drag him on his back.

“You’re an idiot.” The man casually mentions, watching him closely and undoubtedly amused as John struggles with his dad.

“No, I’m not.” John counters easily without a second thought and not at all moved by the words. 

His dad is pulled out of his arms. “I’ve been told it’s polite to accept help when needed.” 

“It’s not. Needed that is.” He clarifies slowly, now more bemused than irritated at the insistence of the rude man.

“Not important. Carry on, where are we going?” 

Shyness about the fact makes John fidget, looking up at the man holding up his father, he finds himself caring less and less. “We were just here for the dinner. We didn’t book anywhere. We were going to head back by train.” 

“Ah, I see now.” The man glances at his father’s pocket before looking over at him again. “Scotland is it. How long have you been living there? Wait, don’t tell me. Very recent, sharing a place with your aunt.” The man talks quickly through odd twitches of his face.

John is too busy being barreled over by such correct statements that he forgets to be offended that some stranger knows so much about him. 

“How did you do that?” John demands, moving a little closer. 

The man is silent for a moment, going back to watching him. “I deduced it.” 

“Can you do that with anyone?” Genuine curiosity makes him abandon the default plan of holding back.

The young man smirks. “Of course.” 

"That's amazing," John grins up at him, offense of earlier long forgotten. “I’m John Watson.”

“Sherlock Holmes.” 

“What were you doing at the dinner?” John asks, looking back in the direction of the dining room and ignoring that his dad is snoring on this man’s shoulder. “You don’t have kids going into sixth form and you don’t look like you’re a donor.” 

“I’m on a case. And before you ask, no, I won’t tell you about it.” The man glances over his shoulder. 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s none of your business.” Comes the quick reply.

John stares hard at him for a moment before turning around and leading the way he needs to go. He didn’t want to know anyway. "Follow me."

#####  _November 2010_

* * *

“How are we going to do this?” John sighs into Sherlock’s chest, enjoying the hands running up and down his back. “We need to plan things if we’re really doing this.” 

“There's a place to live, only confirmation is left with the landlady so she can get things ready before we move in. The rest can come as we go. And the most important thing is up to you.” 

“We can’t take it as it comes if we have a kid.” John protests. 

“And we are financially stable, we’ll have a place to live. We both have careers. We’re young enough for it to be healthy but not too young where it can be dangerous for you.” Sherlock ticks off and John laughs a little giddily. 

“I’ll stop the birth control.” He declares suddenly. 

“Can I throw them out?” Sherlock lifts his head to try and see his face while sounding eager. 

He can't help but grin, hiding it in Sherlock's shirt. “Be my guest.” 

“We’re using my furniture.” Sherlock adds without prompt out of nowhere. 

“I like your furniture.” John is quick to admit. 

“Good,” Sherlock lets his head fall back but one of his hands lifts to card through John's hair. 

They're in comfortable silence before a thought comes to mind. “Twelve days.” John murmurs, turning his head to stare up at the ceiling, Sherlock’s body doing it's best to curl around his.

“Approximately twelve days.” Sherlock confirms. 

“I’m glad we went with the Omega contraceptives.” John sighs, lifting his arm and reaching up to run his own fingers through Sherlock’s curly hair. The last thing they needed was months of regulating Sherlock if he had gotten the contraceptive shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story gets on better in the following chapters, promise. 
> 
> Again, mistakes are my fault so if you find one don't be afraid to point it out. I take all suggestions to mind and will edit accordingly as soon as all the chapters are posted up.


	3. Chapter 3

#####  _February 2011_

* * *

Over two months later finds John hunched over a toilet, Sherlock nowhere to be seen. He hasn’t felt this hopeless and alone since it was agreed that he would be safer living with Mycroft and all his lack of privacy with security than with Sherlock at his shitty flat while he tailed increasingly interesting cases and John went to Uni. 

His stomach twists and swoops and he rises up high enough on his knees just fast enough to make the toilet as the rest of his breakfast and lunch makes an exit. He’s shivering, he’s tired, and he’s alone. Moaning sadly, he rubs shaky hands from his throat down to his stomach in an attempt to soothe himself. 

Eyes shut to help him concentrate, he finds balance enough to stand on his feet and stumble to the sink. Turning on the cold tap he rinses his mouth thoroughly before splashing water over his brow and face and behind his neck. He’d been ignoring the nausea all day during work, finally succumbing in his flat. 

Several footsteps rush the stairs leading up to their flat and John grips the doorway of the toilet before pushing himself out into the kitchen. The best and brightest of Scotland Yard pool inside his living room.

A woman turns slowly to look in his direction before asking abruptly. “Who the hell are you?”

“John Watson. What the hell are you doing in my flat?” He returns, holding his ground. 

“Sherlock Holmes. We learned he lives here, is this not correct?” An older man with graying hair walks up to him. John doesn't step away and stares the man down despite being shorter than him too. They don't send a whole team to give bad news, right? 

“Is something wrong? Is he okay?” Sherlock can take care of himself. He can, it’s just after that he needs caring. But he hasn’t heard from him today and he knows Sherlock can get up to just about anything on short notice so he’s a little worried.

“We’re looking for evidence.” The man tells him, the rest of the group walking in further into his home.

The bout of fear is gone. Sherlock apparently is still on a case. “Do you have a warrant?” John growls, annoyed that someone entered his territory looking for his mate. 

“We have a warrant for a drugs search.” 

Speechless, John takes the warrant from the man skimming through it quickly. Rage rises suddenly and he cries out, “But this is ridiculous!”

“Sorry mate, but I don’t think you know him well enough to say so.” The woman speaks again before casually walking into their kitchen. He has to remind himself that these are the police and he and Sherlock could get into trouble for fighting it.

“You three take the room through there. You three upstairs. You three in the kitchen. You three out here with me.” 

John fumes silently as he watches these people touch his things with intent to find something wrong. 

“Detective Inspector Lestrade, I’m going to have to ask you a few questions.”

John doesn’t react. Simply stares silently and defiantly at the man holding out a pad and pen staring back at him. 

“Can you state your name?”

“John Watson”

“John, when was the last time you saw Sherlock Holmes?”

John’s jaw begins to work. “About twelve hours ago. But I can tell he’d been in the flat for a while, while I was at work.”

“How?” 

“His dressing gown was lying over the couch. It wasn’t there this morning.” John answers stiffly. “He must have gotten a message and taken off.”

The man turns to look at the couch. “It’s not there now.” 

“Well it wouldn’t be. I moved it back into the bedroom.” 

The man nods tightly, making a small note in his pad. “Why are you here?”

Saliva begins pooling underneath his tongue. He knows what is about to happen, he silently swallows quickly but almost instantaneously more saliva pools to replace it. “Ah, I live here.” He swallows again, his eyes watering and he blinks rapidly to clear them from the blur. 

The man stops what he's doing to stare at him. “How long have you been living here?” 

“About three – excuse me.” John inhales slowly and deeply, trying to keep the nausea at bay. Tilting his head up to look at the ceiling he swallows a few more times in quick succession before looking back down at eye level with the detective. “Almost three months,” He answers in a hoarse voice. 

“What is your relation to Sherlock Holmes?”

“He’s my – my ma-“ John turns on his heels and sprints to the bathroom, his hands pressed tightly over and covering his mouth before he’s falling to his knees and throwing up absolutely nothing into the toilet bowl once more. 

Oh god. This morning-not-so-morning sickness was the worst thing he’s ever been through. And he’s alone, surrounded by strangers in his flat, raiding his only comfort area. 

“Someone take him in for questioning. He’s acting suspicious.”

He’s too busy heaving out nothing to be outraged. It’s when he’s done, his muscles lax from cramping and he’s slumped against the floor that someone is dragging him up. 

“Up you get. Get yourself cleaned before we head out.” 

John thinks it’s a marvelous idea to get cleaned. With trembling hands he turns on the water and washes his hands before he’s gripping the edges of the sink and heaving nothing again, his body tightening and loosening and tightening even more than before at each new heave. Tears are slipping unwillingly from the corners of his eyes as he tries to gasp in air. 

A bang startles him into coughing and suddenly loud exclamations are heard outside of the bathroom. 

“Think your flatmate’s here.” The woman who followed him into the room mentions. 

He doesn’t hear if she has more to say, he’s too tired to focus and too tired to shake her hand off his arm, but someone does that for him. 

“Take your hands off of him.” Sherlock snarls lowly, moving closer to the bathroom and ignoring everyone left behind, following him. 

“Don’t think so freak. He’s been acting strange. We’re taking him for questioning.” 

John glances up to look at Sherlock, who is carefully looking him over. He turns back to rinse out his mouth, comforted in turning his back to the room now that Sherlock was there, they were in for it now.

#####  _November 2004_

* * *

“We are concerned about the age difference between you and your mate. Is there anything you need to tell us John?” The counselor leans over her desk to him. 

It’s a bit of a sensitive subject for him. So what if Sherlock is almost a decade older, it doesn’t matter. They’d known each other for a few years, which is more than can be said for other Alpha and Omega couples. But apparently that is what made their bonding so strange.

“I think it’s none of your business. Is that why I’m here?” He demands as he sits straight-backed. 

“The school understood that you needed two weeks off to bond and stabilize it, however when the paperwork from your ceremony came back we noticed the large age gap. We are simply concerned that you have been coerced or bribed into this bond.” 

“I haven’t been.” He assures her stiffly, the ridiculous not lost on him. “And I’m going to have to ask you to stop this. If you have something else to talk about, besides belittling my bond, I’ll hear it.” 

She clears her throat while shifting in her seat. “Very well. A few days ago some of your professors came in and mentioned you had bruising along your wrist and knuckles. I can see the remnants from here. But John, you can’t hide that healing split lip and the cut above your temple.” She lists and points out professionally. 

Lips pursing, he shakes his head. “My mate is a detective. He'll begin work with Scotland Yard on a few cases soon but he tends to attract enemies now who like to take quick opportunities.” He denies the implication as he stares across the desk. 

“Oh. Well, John. Law states that if we think an Omega still of school age is being abused by their Alpha that we can have a questioning and investigation.” 

John groans, falling back against the chair. “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

 

Lectures for the day over John enters his flat, wondering if Sherlock was in or out on a case.

The answer comes immediately when Sherlock appears in front of him, grabs his chin and tilts his head around, all the while staring hard at certain points. John pulls out of the grasp. “What are you doing?” 

“Mycroft called about an investigation notice put on our bond.” Sherlock replies distractedly as his eyes continue to roam over anything he can see, cataloging the previously closely inspected and now healing injuries. 

“Counselor called me in today, yeah.” John confirms, sounding completely unimpressed. 

“I’m not.” Sherlock suddenly states. 

“I know you’re not. I said you weren’t, that you wouldn’t ever, but they’re idiots. They don’t understand.” John leans back against the door, looking up at Sherlock and trying to assure more with eyes than his words while Sherlock is busy thinking. 

“My line of work is too dangerous for you.” Sherlock announces, recoiling backwards a little. 

John laughs. “You can’t be serious.” Sherlock says nothing else, simply watches. “Sherlock, just, listen okay. You would never have bonded with me if I couldn’t handle myself. If you didn’t believe I wouldn't get in your way.” 

Sherlock's face changes in minute details, “I don’t have to believe. I have proof. You call that handling yourself? You were nearly killed!” Sherlock whirls away and heads back into their flat. John stares at his retreating back speechless before locking the front door and following him. 

“I could have handled it better, yes, but I think I did alright.” John calls out, glaring and staring silently at Sherlock who looks like he’s about to have a sulk. “It’s not like I’m permanently hurt, or traumatized or anything. I knew what I was getting into when we started this.” John motioned between the both of them, the motion remains unobserved. 

Sherlock also remains silent and John sighs, heading into the kitchen for something to eat, he’s absolutely starving. 

“I discussed the issue with mother.” Sherlock starts speaking when he's safely out of sight, unable to not voice his thoughts. 

“Oh?” John encourages, turning back into the fridge and finding left over take away from a night - or was it two? - ago. 

“We agreed you need to live somewhere safer, more stable.” Sherlock spits out the last words bitterly. 

“Don’t tell me we’re moving! It’s fine here, honestly, how am I going to let the same thing happen again? We know about the bloody window now.” John throws a platter into the microwave to heat up. He fills a glass of water before tasting and resting a hip against the counter, watching Sherlock.

“We’re not moving. You are.” Sherlock corrects. 

John swallows a mouthful of water before setting the still filled glass down. “Sorry. Repeat that, I thought you said I was moving.” John requests as he walks out of the kitchen. 

“That is what I said.” 

John’s brain has short circuited, maybe. Okay, so he had heard right. _Okay._ “Where?” He asks slowly, stopping his advance. 

Sherlock looks pained as he opens his mouth to reply. “With mother in the country, she says she misses you.”

The impulse to break something is suppressed. “Or?” John prompts, his nails digging into his palms because of how tight he’s holding his hands into fists.

“With Mycroft here in London.” 

John continues to stand still and silent, it's how he processes, all the while still staring at Sherlock, neither making any movements. “You’re serious.” He wonders out loud. 

“Yes. I’m sorry, John, it’s what’s for the best.” 

His brow furrows, trying to make sense of how that could possibly be for the best. A young Alpha and Omega bond shouldn’t be stretched far if it could be avoided, unnecessary stress and all. “You’re wrong.” 

The microwave beeps behind him. They both ignore it. Sherlock stands and reaches him, a hand coming down to grab one of his clenched fists. “I need you to be safe. Staying with my mother, even brother will be better for you.”

“Don’t,” John bites out, tugging at his hand, a useless action because Sherlock isn’t letting go. “Don’t even start.”

“John,” Sherlock starts as he wraps his arms around him, and he can’t help but lean forward into Sherlock. The hold, the warmth, and the smell is all comfort for him, and he needs it now, more than ever when some are questioning their bond. “This is important. It’s not negotiable, I should have thought of this happening before bonding.”

Sherlock wants him out of the way. As good as admitted John wasn’t living up to their expectations and promises. He’s not good enough. How could he be good enough? How could he possibly have thought he was good enough or that he could be?

“- I love you John, you matter.” 

And Sherlock is just going to toss him out. After everything they’ve accomplished together. After convincing his father that this was something he was going to do with or without his blessing. After having a bonding ceremony Sherlock’s family had insisted on.

Clenching his eyes and teeth he leans harder into Sherlock, lowering his head and pressing his face against Sherlock’s chest, willing him to take it back. Snatching the last of the comfort he could possibly take in this short time. 

“If anything were to happen to you-“

“I said don’t.” John clips, voice muffled in Sherlock’s chest, “And let go.” He demands as he finally tears his face away from Sherlock. “I said let go!” He snaps viciously when Sherlock takes too long on letting him go and looks about to ignore his demands.

When he does, he doesn’t bother looking up at Sherlock. Only turns away and calmly snatches up his book bag before opening the door. He’s forgotten he’s hungry. Or that he doesn’t know where to go. He rushes out of the door before Sherlock can think to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, this update took far too long for this. Classes and work has long started. Spent the weekend visiting the family and my menagerie of domestic house pets. 
> 
> I update now, moments before I push my rat terrier off my lap and get in my car to drive back to University, in hopes that this chapter will be alright.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one had the most rewrites and additions so any mistakes are definitely all my fault. Hope you can enjoy it anyway.

#####  _February 2011_

* * *

It had been alarming to witness Sherlock pull out a tattered grocery bag from inside his coat and throw it at the Detective Inspector in agitation, demanding him to call off the search. 

The room had gone silent as the bag made an appearance and was cautiously opened. 

"All right. We're done here." The man glanced up, surprised but eyes narrowed in confusion as he looked between Sherlock and everyone else in the room. 

John could see Sherlock's hands clenching as he glared at everyone who wasn't him. If John had been irritated with the police intruding into his territory it was nothing compared to what his Alpha counterpart was going through now. Traditionally bonded Alphas founded a territory but needed the approval of their mate to claim it. 

221B Baker Street had long been claimed by them that the intrusion was deplorable. 

"Now get out!" Sherlock snarled, turning back to the detective inspector. 

The man actually pulled back by taking a step. John quietly, but quite wildly, gloried that his mate was the more dominant Alpha in the flat, as it should be. 

The feeling was quickly replaced by nausea once more. Quite detached to the situation occurring he observed the crowd of officers stop what they were doing. Some left in a hurry, others took their time relishing in walking freely out of territory they were never invited into to begin with. You could tell who were the Alphas, the Betas, and the Omegas. 

"Next time I call you for the evidence answer me, Sherlock. This could all have been avoided." The detective inspector tried to reason near the doorway leading to the downstairs. 

John rested against the door frame, finding the angle helpful in taking soothing steady breaths. 

"You wouldn't know what to do with it." Sherlock announced with a tightness to his voice John recognized as Sherlock about to cause a scene. "Now get out of my flat, Lestrade."

Apparently the man knew what that tightness meant as well. 

The unfamiliar dark eyes turned to glance at him, eyebrows quirking in curiosity. "Yeah. Alright then. Look after your guest, he looks ill."

John snorted and regretted it almost instantly. He was pregnant, surely the Alpha last to leave would be able to tell. 

Sherlock remained motionless until the front door was closed. Then he whirled around and in a few hurried steps reached him, a hand coming up to rest along the back of his neck while the other rested on his waist.

"Are you all right?" Sherlock asked, looking intently at him.

Shutting his eyes and shaking his head he began breathing to try and get past the churning. "Yes," He nodded as he opened his eyes to reassure Sherlock. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just the-"

"The term morning sickness is woefully inaccurate." Sherlock muttered, stepping closer to wrap his arms around John. 

John willingly rested against Sherlock. Allowed the scent of his mate to distract him and the hold to reassure him. But it didn't last long. Rocking his forehead back and forth on Sherlock's shoulder he fought the saliva again. In the end he had to pull away and hold Sherlock at an arms length before giving in and heading back into the bathroom. 

Sherlock stood behind John, watching their reflection over the sink mirror as he rubbed his back in circular motions while the other rested spread out against his stomach. The sound of the running tap echoed in the room.

John finally tilted his head down from staring at the ceiling in concentration to making eye contact with Sherlock in the mirror. He could read the question in Sherlock's eyes and smiled tiredly. "I just need a little rest." 

He could see the frown in Sherlock's eyes and brought his hands up to place over the hand resting against his clothed stomach. "A nap and some tea I think." He continued to reassure as he began to turn.

Not wanting to accidentally sleep the rest of the day he led the way to the couch. "Just a small nap. You can wake me in a few hours to tell me about why Scotland Yard invaded the flat."

“They are idiots.” John grumbles as he stretches out on the couch moments after waking, the damp cloth applied to his forehead still cool. Mrs. Hudson must have dropped by. Sherlock however doesn't answer. He doesn’t bother looking over; he knows Sherlock is deep in his own thoughts if he'd spent all that time in the same spot while he slept. 

He feels a slight pang of hunger and rejoices silently that he could have food while willingly avoiding thinking about losing it later when the nausea comes back. 

Sitting up he stretches once more before tipping his legs off the couch in attempt to head into the kitchen. 

Just as he starts to stand Sherlock is in front of him, a hand coming down to rest gently on his shoulder. “What is it? No, never mind. What do you want?” Those eyes rove over his face, “Is it wise?”

John chuckles softly, long used to being deduced on this matter. “It doesn’t have to be spicy.” 

Sherlock considers him for a moment before nodding, “I’ll call for you. Just, lie back down.” 

He does. Watching a little more than amused as Sherlock disappears into the kitchen and he can’t help but let out a sigh. After the day he had it was nice to be home with Sherlock. Closing his eyes he rests back against the arm rest, bringing his knees in closer.

Sherlock walks back into the living room a moment later, walking directly to him. “How was the case?” John asks.

An annoyed look graces Sherlock's face. “It was boring. I offer Scotland Yard my services and they abuse the favor by sending me worthless cases and intruding in my territory.” 

“You solved it though?” He can't help but ask. He knows Sherlock can solve cases without getting in the thick of things.

Sherlock hesitates, “I gave Lestrade my deductions by text while you slept.”

“So you're done with the case.” John frowns slightly, head tilting to look up at Sherlock. Why would he do that? Normally he liked to see things through after he'd gone through the trouble of the physical work.

Sherlock scowls. “I gave them enough. Besides, I have something more important to do and they were getting in my way. If they wanted to do it all on their own they shouldn’t have called me in to begin with.”

John shifts from his position, aching a little and doing a good job at not showing it. He sports an amused smile at Sherlock’s words, he also usually said the opposite. “You dropped it because of me.” 

Sherlock didn’t bother denying it. “You’ve been feeling ill all day and I did find you bent over the sink with a useless Beta meaning to restrain you.” 

“It’s normal,” John starts, despite feeling warmth blooming in his chest that Sherlock was staying with him. He wouldn’t have to go through it alone. “I mean, it’s bad but it’s nothing never not seen before. I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.” He smiles reassuringly.

The look he receives is observant, but his mate sticks to one thing. “Then I will make sure you’re always okay.”

John continues smiling, sitting up and stretching. Feeling a little lightheaded at the lack of food, but he’s tired of sitting on the couch, he stands before Sherlock. “I’m sure you will. I love you too.” He leans up to kiss Sherlock softly before pulling back. “I'm taking a shower. I feel like death and smell sick.” He adds with his face scrunched up in distaste. 

He comes out of the shower in a soft t-shirt, larger than he needs but that smells of Sherlock and a pair of soft worn pajama bottoms, and is greeted with their food spread out and Sherlock sitting relaxed on their couch with his laptop open. 

 

Knowing Sherlock knows he’s out of the bath, he wraps his arms around him, pressing his nose to his curls and breathing in the familiar smell. “Thank you for dinner,” he travels lower to speak into his ear, “But you have to eat too.” 

Sherlock stills, lifting a hand and resting it along his neck, the long familiar warm fingers traveling and massaging in all directions while he continues to type one handed. John’s knees nearly buckle when he reaches the bond bite, and every time, still to this day six years on, he’s still heavily affected by the touch and gesture. 

“Ah, no. You’re not distracting me.” John chuckles into his hair as he gives him a small kiss before managing to pull himself away from Sherlock, “I’m hungry and you also need to eat.” 

“Fine” Sherlock sighs, dropping the laptop on the floor and scooting closer to the coffee table where he’s set up the food. John notices a pleased smile on his face when he decides to step over Sherlock's legs instead of walking around the table to his side of the couch. 

“You did that on purpose.” He accuses without heat as he grabs a box before sitting down beside Sherlock.

Sherlock is deliberate in making eye contact, “Perhaps.”

#####  _April 2008_

* * *

“Oh god, my neck.” He moans, dragging his head up off the desk. How had he managed to fall asleep like this when he was in the middle of studying? He knew it was an important exam, so how could he let it happen?

“Morning,” A familiar deep voice sounds from behind him.

John turns around in his chair to see Sherlock lying fully clothed on his bed. “Your shoes,” Is all he manages to say when his brain is being so sluggish and taken by surprise. 

Without turning his pinning gaze from him, Sherlock toes off his shoes. “Doesn’t seem like a very conductive place to sleep. Or very effective studying.” 

“Hilarious,” John answers between a mouth-opening wide yawn, torn between going to Sherlock and staying at his desk to try and study some more. Instead, he stays in his chair but turns it all the way around to face Sherlock straight on. “What are you doing here? I thought you were on a case.” 

“Simple and exceedingly boring.” Sherlock drawls, a hand caressing the corner of the pillows behind his head without a thought.

“At least it’s another one solved.” John smiles softly, feeling a little more than proud of his mate. “You’ll have to tell me about it. I just need to finish reviewing a few more sections first though.” He glances over his shoulder at the study materials on his desk. “Get comfortable,” he adds after turning to face Sherlock once more.

Sherlock looks unimpressed and John can hear the complaint in his voice. “You’re not joining me?” 

“I do have an exam, Sherlock.” John sighs, rubbing his hands over his face in an attempt to stimulate his eyelids from drooping closed.

Sherlock sits up, the look of coming up with a brilliant idea brightening his face. “Bring your book and notes here.” He demands suddenly. 

John’s tempted, sitting beside Sherlock while he studies sounds like a wonderful idea… if he wanted to be distracted. “I don’t know.” He hesitates, turned halfway between Sherlock and his desk. 

Sherlock looks amused, “I won’t distract you. Come here.” 

Biting his bottom lip he watches Sherlock closely, trying to figure out if he's being completely honest or not. _To hell with it._ “Promise?” He asks, not making a single movement to signify he’s decided what to do despite wanting to be no more than an arm reach away from Sherlock.

Sherlock extends a hand out to him, a determined look on his face. “Of course I promise. I’m only going to help you study.” 

John grins, “Yeah?”

Sherlock merely quirks an eyebrow at him and John can’t help but turn to his desk and gather his supplies, walking quickly across the room and around to the other side of the bed where he drops them next to Sherlock. “Well, I don’t know how much you can help me with the material.” He teases and grins wider at Sherlock’s affronted look, “But you can hold the book up for me.” 

Sherlock hisses quietly and John catches a quick view of the tips of his front teeth. “Don't be an idiot.” John can't help but laugh and give Sherlock a quick chaste kiss as he settles onto the bed. Sherlock however sits up further and pushes the pillows higher behind him as he rests his back against them once more and spreads his legs. “Come here.” 

Lifting both eyebrows he stares at Sherlock, giving his mate a slow look over, more than a little surprised. “What?” 

Sherlock smirks before clarifying. “Here, come here. Sit between my legs facing away at your desk.”

He doesn't blush, only rolls his eyes and purses his lips as he considers doing what Sherlock's suggested. After all, he did promise not to distract him. Moving carefully to sit between his legs he finds Sherlock’s arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him further in to recline against his slim but still broader torso. It’s a little distracting, but it's good. 

Sherlock pulls in his own legs, bracketing John in. An arm lets him go and a book appears on Sherlock’s lap and he has a makeshift desk. Lowering his head back he places a small kiss on Sherlock’s jaw. “Thank you,” he says happily before turning to the side for the other supplies he also needs, an arm still wrapped warmly and securely around him. 

Studying this way, he very well quite likes it. He has Sherlock, he has warmth and comfort, and he’s still retaining what he needs. He decides to take a break in a moment so he studies as much as he can. 

His heat isn't due for another few weeks, but he still feels want when he's so close to Sherlock and had settled to hear and not see his mate for over a week this time.

When the break finally comes around he sets the book aside with his other supplies tucked safely inside. Sherlock’s body gives a questioning squeeze and John's hands come up to rest on Sherlock’s forearms, rubbing softly. “Unlike you, I can’t stare at the same thing for hours.” 

Stifling a yawn, he shifts a little. “Are you hungry?” The expected answer of no comes close to his ear. “Have you eaten?” The silence answers him. 

He begins to turn around, prepared to lecture Sherlock over how stupid his motto over food is, but a hand presses firmly into his abdomen as Sherlock nuzzles into the back of his neck. Any points he was about to make evacuated his thought process as he gripped tightly to Sherlock's forearms when his nose ran over their old bond bite before lips reached the spot next.

Instinct has him nearly doubling over and Sherlock follows him pressed closely. They maneuver their legs somehow to where they're beneath them. John doesn't know exactly how because at that moment Sherlock lined up his teeth to the old bite and pressed down gently. He comes to his senses, panting with dry cotton sheets in his mouth, when Sherlock pulls back. 

Struggling John swings himself over and onto his back while accidentally elbowing Sherlock on the jaw; he giggles as Sherlock grunts in surprise and pain.

In this position he can run his hands down Sherlock's curling hair, familiar shoulder, and muscled upper arms. He can also begin to frantically unbutton the shirt Sherlock loves to wear. 

He's aware of being watched closely and when he glances up away from the loose shirt he sees triumph on his mate's expression before it's much too close for him to focus on. He has to shut his eyes but in this position he can wrap his arms around Sherlock and hold him close. It's even more familiar from here to tear off each other's clothes.

Afterwards, sprawled and tangled with Sherlock at the foot of his bed John lifts his head from Sherlock's shoulder. "You haven't eaten, have you. How long has it been this time?”

Sherlock turns his head up to look at him. “Since I last spoke to you on the phone?”

“Six hours ago? I don’t believe you.” John snorts, sitting up and stretching lazily. 

Sherlock places a hand on his thigh, presumably an attempt to keep him near as he admits the truth. “Before the case.” 

John sighs and shakes his head. Two days. Not as bad as it’s been before, but still bad. “Join me for breakfast.” 

“Don’t want to get up.” Sherlock counters quickly. 

John knows how to play this game. “I’ll bring it here then.” He can feel Sherlock hesitate in his answer as more focus is put upon his thigh. “I’m not taking no’s,” John adds quickly, “Here, let me up,” he taps Sherlock’s shoulder. 

Once he’s standing he stares down at Sherlock, looking over his relaxed features and itching to stay with him. “Don’t go anywhere. I don’t feel like hunting you down.” He turns as he throws on his dressing gown, tying it as he heads to the door after catching an amused smirk on Sherlock. 

The thing about living with Mycroft is that the fridge and pantry are always stocked. In fact, Mycroft had been teaching him how to cook since the past year. It was one thing they could do together that didn't annoy one or the other in some way. 

The best thing was that he was never on the premises during most daylight hours. And that he surprisingly refused to have his own privacy compromised when exterior surveillance was more than adequate for their location.

Returning back to his room with a full English breakfast and tea precariously balanced on a tray he’s greeted with a completely naked Sherlock reading casually over his exam notes.


	5. Chapter 5

#####  _May 2011_

* * *

“How are you feeling?”

John blinks, trying to get a focus of what’s right in his face mere moments after waking up. A slow smile appears when he see’s Sherlock’s pale eyes, wide and looking genuinely curious. 

“Better,” he croaks, honestly having enjoyed the extra hours of rest he managed by going to sleep earlier after getting into bed with Sherlock. “What is it?” He asks, pushing up into a sitting position with instinct telling him there was something on Sherlock's mind. 

Sherlock stares at him a little while longer before blinking and leaning back to give him some space. “I was wondering if you could come with me to a crime scene, Lestrade texted.” 

Sitting fully up against the headboard he looks curiously over at Sherlock. He’s never been asked to go to a crime scene with him, not since before their bonding when they both acted so recklessly. “What for?” He asks, implying the _'what’s the reason’_ and not _‘what’s the crime’_. 

Sherlock lets the air out of his lungs slowly, getting John's meaning instantly. “The previous forensics retired, I’ve had to put up with some new idiot coming in and ruining everything. He doesn’t do anything right. It's like he was never educated.” Sherlock complains, and despite letting his frustration out quickly it still sounds remarkably articulate. 

John doesn't mean to laugh, but he laughs softly anyway, placing an almost suggestive hand on Sherlock’s thigh nearest to him. “I don’t know what you want me to do? Deck him for you? Don't think I'll be able to for a while love.” He mentions fondly in attempt not to cause further aggravation.

“Fine. I need your expertise.” Sherlock admits with a no nonsense look on his face, “So will you come?” John won't tease him about it.

“Of course I’ll go. All you had to do is ask.” He pushes off the covers as he stretches, rubbing his healthy belly a little before sliding into a sitting position facing Sherlock. “Leaving soon?” 

“Soon as you’re ready,” Sherlock confirms.

John nods, sliding out of bed and heading for the bathroom. He really had to piss. 

After a quick wash and mad dash to find clothes that are acceptable for an outdoor case, he really did need to get new clothes soon, and breakfast, Sherlock hailed a taxi in front of their house while he locked the front door. 

Inside the taxi Sherlock keeps glancing over at him. It's not something he can overlook.

“What is it?” John asks, feeling a little self conscious all of a sudden. It’s not like he had a great selection of clothes to wear that didn’t show off his decently sized obvious baby bump for a male Omega. His jeans were also getting on the too tight side of things. 

“Don’t worry, you look fine. Not looking forward to what the reaction at the scene will be, that is not fine.” 

Rolling his eyes he leans back into the seat. “I doubt it’ll affect me any differently.” He shrugs, used to seeing some horrendous things during his last year of University. “So, where are we going?”

“Lewisham, Brockley. There were two bodies found not a mile from each other that Scotland Yard cannot determine whether the deaths are even related.” 

John silently wonders what he’d be able to do that the professionals trained and hired couldn't do. But he was more than a little curious about heading out to a crime scene. He hadn’t been to one in years after the great disaster. But it was obvious that Sherlock considered this crime scene not a very dangerous one if he was bringing him along… or he really was needed there more than he expected. 

Later after sliding out of the cab and catching his first glimpse at the crime scene set up from afar, he can’t help the little excitement course through him. He’d always enjoyed activity, and his current life as a doctor was active and exhausting but not quite the excitement he really look for. 

“Come on.” Sherlock murmurs suddenly, brushing past him and setting a fast pace to the scene. Being on the shorter side and his balance being a little off, he rocks a little before he steps off to follow him. 

“What are you doing here freak?”

John immediately glances up in the direction of the voice, frowning at the familiar woman who had weeks ago once invaded his apartment. Still rude, it seemed. 

“Lestrade texted.” Sherlock answers, promptly trying to ignore her by lifting the police tape and trying to go through. John hesitates a little as he decides that following Sherlock through without permission to access was not the brightest of ideas. He begins to follow anyway. 

“Oi, wait a minute! What’s this? You can’t bring him here!” Flushing, John looks at her where she is now blocking their way. It's silent between them for what feels like a long time. “It’s you again!” She exclaims, looking him up and down with a horrified look to her eyes. 

“Yes I can.” Sherlock growls while sidestepping her easily. “Let’s go John.”

Their stand down is interrupted by another voice. “What are you waiting for? We’ve been waiting! Hurry it up!” It turns out to be the silver haired man named Lestrade that has called out to them as he approaches steadily. 

“Trying to,” Sherlock snaps nastily, turning back to the woman. “I suggest you get out of his way Sergeant and let him through.” 

“He has no permission for access. Why would I let some nobody into our investigation?” She snaps, seeming to have no patience for Sherlock.

John can see the Alpha in Sherlock rearing its head and he hurries to dispel it as quickly as possible in this setting. He doesn’t need Sherlock protecting him. “Doctor John Watson.” He extends his hand for a professional handshake, forcing civility. 

She stares at his hand momentarily before reaching for it. “You’re a doctor? Seem young, yeah.” She glances at Sherlock, looking completely unconvinced. 

“Not that young.” John answers her steadily. “Just followed the course.” He can hear Sherlock muttering under his breath about incompetent idiots.

“What is taking you so long?” Lestrade snaps, finally reaching their group. 

Sherlock is more than ready to point fingers. “Donovan here won’t let me pass through.” 

Lestrade quickly glances over at the woman, a hard and disapproving look on his face. 

“Erm, no!” She snaps, “I’m not letting him in.” She corrects by turning to face John with a confused look on her face. 

Lestrade looks him over. “What’s he doing here?” He asks Sherlock.

“He’s a doctor, I need him.” Sherlock growls, tired of answering the same questioning. It's very easy to tell. 

“We have Anderson on forensics, Why would you need him?” Lestrade pushes for a reasonable answer. 

“Anderson won’t work with me. He is an imbecile and I require someone with finesse on the subject. Who better than a doctor?” Sherlock answers with a subtle mocking hint to his scathing remark.

Lestrade sputters for a moment, glancing between the two of them now that he's focused on John. “Wait, now hang on a minute! This is a pregnant Omega; there's no way he is coming in!” The woman whirls around to stare at him and John scowls, wishing he could discretely protect his baby from their looks. “What are you doing bringing in an Omega? Their Alpha is going to… - _Oh my god_.” 

“What?” John snaps, fed up with it all now. He sort of understands Sherlock's complaints after a case now.

“That? _Him?! He’s_ your mate?!” Lestrade whirls over to face Sherlock, a shocked look on his face. “He smells like you!” He provides his evidence as an accusation and all the proof he needs.

“Oh my god,” The woman breathes, taking a step back away from them, a thoroughly disgusted look on her face. 

John warns them all quietly in a steady voice. One word. "Don't."

“Do you mean to tell me that you have a problem, Lestrade?” Sherlock voices with forced casualty, a sign that he was angered. "You have not shown any disagreement in the past with the knowledge that I am bonded."

The man stares at Sherlock, mouth thinning as he watches. “Well he’s young!” Lestrade finally cries out, looking back at John. 

“You forced him, didn’t you?” The woman continues, in a scenario and conversation all of her own. 

How ridiculous could this possibly get?

“No!” Snarls Sherlock suddenly. 

John instinctively steps closer to Sherlock while the other two lean away from them. Years at being on each other’s side puts them comfortably and naturally as a team against the two police officers. 

“We’re here for the case, not for you to comment on my bond with my mate.” Sherlock continues to retaliate against the offensive comment. 

It’s silent for a long awkward moment before Lestrade clears his throat. “Go on,” he motions towards where the first body is presumably at. Sherlock places a hand against his lower back and they turn around, Sherlock’s hand dropping when they have a direction. 

They’re silent. Both fuming in their own way at the demonstration put upon them, they haven’t been subjected to comments like that in years. With Sherlock looking a few years younger than thirty-two and John normally dressing professionally at his age of twenty-three, it was not an uncommon sight. But their knowledge that Sherlock had been bonded for years with him is what apparently they couldn’t get over. 

He waits patiently as Sherlock examines the body. Watching Sherlock closely and putting together actions he’s seen done before and now at a crime scene. It’s more than fascinating to watch him work, always endearing to hear him talk through his thoughts, with John long used to being a soundboard in those moments. 

“John, come here.” Sherlock calls out, considerably more in control of his words and actions, knowing John is only a few paces away and paying attention. “What does this look like to you?”

John walks closer and leans in while tugging on gloves, observing the parts of the body Sherlock is pointing to. 

Still being too far away he crouches next to the body and looks properly. Smelling traces of old bitterness he reluctantly inhales from between clenched teeth. “Old wounds, can’t properly tell you – Several at different stages, some from six to forty-eight hours old approximately – not particularly life threatening wounds.” 

Reaching out to take the hand he touches about expertly. “Death not more than twelve hours ago, so the body was left here after, maybe, which would explain the lack of evidence around.” He murmurs contemplatively as he looks at their surroundings, hoping for more facts to show themselves to him. 

Sherlock, who is crouching a little further away from him, to give him room to look at the body, looks triumphantly at him before jumping up and leaning in to help him stand a little smoother as John pushes a hand into his own lower back to keep balance. 

“Excellent.” Sherlock nods at him, “Lestrade!” He suddenly shouts, before he’s rushing in the direction of the next body. 

Squinting after him in the nice bright sunlight John decides to follow him at his own pace. 

He’s alone for not very long when someone falls into step with him. Looking over he sees the woman from before and resigns himself to her rudeness. 

As predicted, she starts off rudely. “So you and the freak, yes?” 

“Sherlock,” John corrects her automatically. "His name is Sherlock... in case you forgot." He trails off, aware of his own rudeness.

“You must have been, what? Sixteen? Eighteen?” She guesses at his age, peering at him as if she could tell just by staring at his face. 

“Seventeen actually,” he corrects, deciding that getting the facts straight now is for the best. He wonders at how Sherlock managed to keep their lives as private as they've been for so long until now.

She whistles lowly, “That’s a long time.” John can’t help but silently agree before she begins speaking again. “He never talks about you.” 

“What?” He asks before he’s able to censor himself. Of course Sherlock wouldn't have spoken of him.

She has an amused grin on her face. “Yeah, He’s never talked to anyone about you, about anything, like your name, age, what you do. He just mentions his _‘mate’_.” She mocks with a little head tilt added. “We were beginning to think he was lying, but he does show signs of being bonded. So we got to asking ourselves, who would ever bond with him?” 

Her grin drops and she frowns instead. “And it turns out to be you. And you’re young, bonded very young. You also look normal. So what did they do to make you bond with him? If you’re a doctor can’t you break the bond and be on your own?” She asks, genuinely and pathetically curious.

Looking up to the sky he draws in a steadying breath. 

She continues with her musings. “And you let him, and probably his whole freaky family, force you to get pregnant. What is it with that? We’re not living in the stone ages anymore you know. For that you could take them to cour-“

“Stop!” John snarls, coming to a quick halt as he turns to face her. 

She stills the moment he whirls on her. 

“Let’s get something straight here.” John starts. “It really is none of your business what goes on between me and Sherlock. So you can stop voicing your unappreciated thoughts and opinions.” He’s breathing heavily and blinking quickly, insulted beyond what he’s ever been before. “But let’s get something clear; because it needs to be cleared, I love Sherlock.” He emphasizes the words by drawing them out. 

“I wasn’t forced into bonding, so you can stop assuming that Sherlock and our family are some sort of monsters. And if there is a next time, do not bring our child into this you ungrateful hag!” He hisses the last words before staring her down. She merely blinks in surprise at him, clearly unaware that John would retaliate in such a manner. 

“Good,” he snaps quickly, nodding smartly, before turning and heading where he was already supposed to be, helping Sherlock figure this case out.

#####  _March 2003_

* * *

“Sherlock?” John murmurs, licking his lips in his nervous state. 

Having long caught his breath, he can no longer avoid the thoughts he's been privately entertaining and publicly denouncing for months to his mates.

Somehow, miraculously, Sherlock turns to face him, grin still wide and eyes still shining after their impromptu chase through the streets of London. “What is it?”

It’s now. It has to be now. There’s a good chance it will go wrong, but he has to know. He'd be a coward if he continued the way he was now.

Mind made up, he leans over and presses his lips against Sherlock’s, shutting his eyes tightly. He fights through the powerful sensations coursing through him as he does the best he can to make this right. They’re so compatible it’s beyond ridiculous that they were born years apart. 

Leaning away, cheeks bright and eyes wide, he makes bold eye contact with Sherlock, who is watching him closely. They’re silent for far too long for him to be comfortable and he doesn’t intend for the outburst, but it happens anyway. “Well?”

Sherlock blinks once before looking away at the passing cars, he replies a moment later. “It is ill advised.” 

Biting the inside of his lip he tries to tell himself it’s not a terrible rejection as it could have been. “Why?” He’s grateful to hear there is no begging or whining tone to his question. It’s probably the only thing that makes Sherlock look back at him. 

But Sherlock remains silent, going back to just watching him. What, was he supposed to come up with the reasons on why it was ill advised, because he can’t think of a good enough reason not to do this? At least one not good enough to not try.

Abandoning caution and more than a little reason he steps up to Sherlock, leans in closer to him again. 

Sherlock remains still. Making no movement to even look away from him. It was as if he was being dared. 

John leans in slowly this time, has to let it be known that he’s not making a sudden decision and that he is being deliberate. His heart beats quickening, the bright flush returning to his cheeks, his lips longing to touch Sherlock’s again part slightly as he inhales sharply. 

"Damn it,” John hears murmured before lips are crashing against his and mere instinct has him pressing in closer to the warmth until he's almost completely pressed against Sherlock's body. 

Teeth nip at his lips causing him to shudder unexpectedly. The feeling leaving him ungrounded and he desperately needs something to hold him down. 

Sherlock has always been able to tell exactly what he needed. From the moment they met which had been instinct crossing their paths by force to the teaming of instinct and practiced deduction now. Sherlock wraps his hands around him, dragging him closer.

He goes willingly. Gasping at the strength and leaning unconsciously into the touch. Giving as good as he’s getting. 

Letting Sherlock’s bottom lip slowly scrape out from between his teeth he hears a small sound from Sherlock and he can’t help but drop a sweet kiss on his lips before tilting his head back and slanting his mouth over Sherlock's again.

How was he to know that kissing Sherlock would put him on a path to last a lifetime?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of our story. 
> 
> If for some reason you ever feel like reading what the entire prompt was or what the original version of this story looked like, I have linked it to the notes in the first chapter. 
> 
> A question. Are you interested in more? Even if it means angst to fill part of your angst-ing needs? I have been toying with the idea to write some complementary hard parts of their lives.
> 
> Whatever the consensus is. I have enjoyed sharing this story and its progress with you all.
> 
> **Edit:** It looks like we'll have a sequel.


End file.
